


Dull Roar

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Chloroform, Gen, Guns, Jim Being Creepy, M/M, Reconnaissance, Sebastian is Mildy Racist, also Charlie, sniping
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-27
Updated: 2013-04-27
Packaged: 2017-12-09 15:26:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/775786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has secrets. A whole web full of them. So does Sebastian. </p><p>Eventual mormor at the end of a long road. Because we all like that. </p><p>This summary, tags, warnings, and other related things will be updated accordingly and hopefully rather quickly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [poetofthefall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/poetofthefall/gifts).



> It's past two am and I can't sleep. So yay! 
> 
> Typed on my phone without a beta, so oops in advance? I might post a second chapter tonight if my insomnia stays active. 
> 
> Written with sweetsandpotatochips over on tumblr in mind, partially for her, mostly for me. :3 Smooches, dahlin'!

For being hailed as a criminal mastermind, Sebastian thought, James Moriarty was an easy man to find. After a long text conversation with a shady drug dealer and a change of Manila folders (cash from Sebastian, a phone number from the junkie), however, Sebastian amended the thought. He was an easy man to get _ahold_ of. One hundred quid was really quite inexpensive, in compensation for the anonymous dispensation of the page with a London cell phone number on it, digits which he now put into his phone, saving it before bringing up a fresh text message. 

While he thought of what to say, he burned the page he'd received, blank apart from the numbers, and used the same lighter to light up a smoke, sucking in a deep breath of nicotine and exhaling, before tapping away at his tiny keypad, fag dangling from his lips. 

 

You'll be wanting me as your head sniper. -M

 

Tucking his phone away, Sebastian headed out of the dim alleyway, and into the brighter streets of central London, moving slowly down a few blocks and through Piccadilly square, walking for the hotel he was currently staying at. He hoped most of the rumors he'd heard about London's shadow king had been correct, that straightforwardness and aggressiveness was what counted when getting something from Moriarty. And what Sebastian wanted was a job, a good one, one that paid well and one he'd enjoy. 

 

He'd only just tossed the butt of his cigarette into the gutter and lit up another when an answering text chimed from his phone, and he smiled, knowing who it came from already. It was the only text he'd ever sent from the thing, anyways. 

 

Well if you're so certain. Take out the current one and consider the job yours. JMx

 

What was the fucking 'x' for? No, Sebastian decided, perspective. It was that easy to get it? Well, if he could find out _who_ Moriarty's current sniper was, of course. Still, there wasn't a catch, an introduction? Just, here you go, enjoy it if you can manage to get it? He liked this Moriarty. 

 

What, no introductions? Do I get any hints? And what's the pay? -M

 

A little arrogant, that last text, perhaps, but they were necessary questions. Sebastian walked only half a block before his phone chimed off again. 

 

Boring. Impress me. I let someone's work do the talking, and you've obviously heard of me. JMx

 

Well. He should have expected that, he supposed, and Sebastian sighed, before texting back one more time, partially to acknowledge Moriarty's text, but mostly to have the last word. At least it would be interesting, working for Moriarty, if he could manage it, and that was almost more important than the pay. Introductions, he knew, would come with time, and Sebastian was content to wait, preferred, really, to put it off for as long as possible. Introductions were things he didn't get on with. 

 

Understood. -M

 

Heading back up to his hotel room, Sebastian spent the next several hours thinking, trying to find the easiest way of locating an anonymous sniper, under Moriarty's employ. Going to one of his other goons would doubtlessly lead to a fight, or information leaking back to Moriarty, or his sniper. For all he knew, the man had already been warned someone was out to kill him for his job. He wanted it to be a surprise, if at all possible, for Moriarty, or as close to, and to, as he'd been told, _impress_ him. 

 

And without a name, it would be nearly impossible to find his hit through other means, if he went by his real name in the first place. Shit. It'd be harder than he'd thought. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sebastian does some snooping and sniping. He doesn't know what to make of Jim.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four am. Still can't sleep. Apologies for wonkiness, if there is any. I'll beta come morning. 
> 
> Jim is written with Ari's Jim in mind. :3
> 
> Once again congrats to anyone that figures out Seb's secret mhm.

Even so, nearly and harder were the keywords. It wasn't impossible, and Sebastian was determined. Working for Moriarty would be his best option, the highest ranked, the most prestigious, the most _fun_. Sebastian liked pushing himself. It was without a doubt the only reason he'd gotten into the army, that and his shooting skills. Which, as Moriarty had said, spoke for him. Which was good, because he'd need them. 

 

As it was, the answer to his dilemma came rather easily, as he was sitting in a corner booth in a bar, sipping on scotch and watching people dance. Everyone had enemies. Especially Moriarty, especially his head sniper. They would know who Moriarty's golden gun was, they would know that _at least_ , if not where to find him. Pleased with himself, Sebastian flipped a tenner onto the table and left, completely ignoring two women who tried to get his attention. Outside, he breathed in exactly one breath of foggy London air, before heading downtown. He knew a guy, who would be able to put him in touch with a French arms dealer, and maybe, just maybe, they'd have a bone to pick with Moriarty and company. If not, well. He needed a gun from somewhere - all of his own had been taken back by the army, and he'd only been back in London a week. 

 

As it turned out, he went through his friend to another man, who told him where to find Charlie, the French gunman. Unfortunately, Charlie eventually conveyed, through quite a language barrier, that while he and Moriarty weren't on the best of terms, he had no fight with the man. It took a lot longer to explain that he only wanted his sniper, not Moriarty or the organization itself. After that, it was more than simple. 

 

Apparently he'd struck gold, following this trail, out of all other places he could have started.  It hadn't even been twenty four hours since he'd started searching, and here it was, offered out on a platter. 

 

For a small price, of course. Charlie was rather hoping someone would come along and take out that _chienne_. Amelia had swapped sides, he found - god, and it helped when Charlie thought to call in one of his men that could translate - in the middle of an arms deal between Charlie and Moriarty, and the fact that the _laid bâtard d'écume_ / had not only stolen half of that transaction but asked for a discount the next time really rubbed Charlie the wrong way. Understandable, Sebastian could agree. 

 

Not only was Charlie now down a good connection in the underground rings, but he'd also lost his best shot, and he was out for vengeance. Struck gold indeed. 

 

As far as they knew, Amelia still lived in the same place. When Sebastian queried why they hadn't taken care of her themselves, Charlie laughed and was quick to answer, waving his hand dismissively. She was French, that was why, and besides, they didn't, as Charlie said, have such a problem with Moriarty as they did Amelia betraying them, and killing her would only have served to irritate the criminal further. Sebastian managed to keep an eye roll under control. That was the French for you. 

 

Even so, they willingly told Sebastian Amelia's address and showed him a photo of her, and he walked out with a set place to go, the good will of Charlie and friends, and a shiny new toy. Sebastian was painfully wary over the next few hours, staking out Amelia's place, checking it from all angles and watching his own back at a near paranoid level. It was too easy, too perfect. Moriarty had set him up, he was certain. 

 

And yet, nothing happened. He sat on his overturned paint bucket in the window of an opposite building, undergoing construction (currently and conveniently empty, as it was the middle of the night), waiting, minutely adjusting his new La France M16K - further remodeled into a lovely (in Charlie's sales pitch) automatic sniper rifle. Sebastian had been impressed by the brief demonstration, and liked the weight of it in his hands. It made Sebastian a might leery to use an unfamiliar gun for such an important task, but yet again, Moriarty wanted to be impressed, and every little bit helped. 

 

As the sky slowly greyed into dawning light, Sebastian finally saw a light flicker on in Amelia's house, and his adrenaline picked up tenfold. Soon. Even more tense and wary, Sebastian waited, watching, gun and eye (for the most part) trained on the door. He had one shot, literally, or he'd  be jack rabbiting Amelia down a hole and into hiding for hell knew how long. 

 

His patience won, as always, though, and when Amelia stepped out of her door, guitar case - obviously her rifle case in disguise - over her shoulder, glancing up and down the street, Sebastian's finger pulled on the trigger, and he watched the bullet sink into her left eye. She fell heavily to the ground, limply rolling down the few steps, and Sebastian packed up quickly, adrenaline singing in his veins and steps light. He slipped out of the building the back way, taking a very, very long and circuitous route back to his hotel, paranoid and watchful the entire way. It went off without a hitch, yes, but either Sebastian had managed to get incredibly lucky, or there was some sort of trickery at work. It was far, far too easy. 

 

Sebastian didn't manage to relax until he'd jacked off in the shower, back in his anonymous hotel room, letting the adrenaline from his first kill in a month and the anxiety that he was going to get caught drain out of him in his preferred method. 

 

He'd just stepped out of the shower and slipped back into clothes when his phone buzzed. A text. Sebastian smiled, reaching for it and flopping onto the bed. Apparently Moriarty had been keeping tabs on Amelia after all. Or, perhaps, she hadn't shown up for that job on time and he'd made inquiries. 

 

Devil's in the details. JMx

 

Sebastian frowned slightly, the comment throwing him off. Did he mean that Sebastian had missed something crucial, shot the wrong person? Or was it a demand for the details of the hit itself? Sebastian opted for choice two. If it had been a surprise and Moriarty hadn't known in advance like Sebastian had wanted,  it stood to reason that he'd want to know how Sebastian managed it. 

 

Found her through a friend. They gave me the information I needed. Shot her from the building across the street with my shiny new gun. -M

 

Maybe it was best to leave everyone else anonymous. Besides, he had to keep a few cards to himself, right? And not to forget the wow factor of using an unused gun for the deed. 

 

Ah, Charlie. Clever man. I'll have to send him a card. I do wonder how someone who wants to be my head sniper enters an assignment like this without a single gun, though. JMx

 

Eyes narrowing at the text, Sebastian sat up, thinking hard, before pulling on his shoes and opening the window, just in case. Moriarty _had_ been following him then. 

 

What else did Charlie tell you? -M

 

God, there went his chance. Fuck. Too easy, too easy. 

 

I've not spoken to Charlie. He's the obvious choice for unregistered weapons. And why would you go to him if you already had a gun? Without that secondary need, he's hardly a person you'd otherwise assume to have information about a sniper you don't know a thing about. JMx

 

Sebastian swallowed. Either he was lying, or he was very, very good at drawing conclusions. One way to find out. 

 

How did you know I didn't have a gun? -M

 

Why else would you have used a 'shiny new gun'? A military man like you knows that the risks of doing a stunt like that far outweighs the benefits of impressing me. You had no other choice. JMx

 

Sebastian was stunned, staring at the text for a long minute, confused. Now he'd guessed he was from the military? How did he know? Someone had to have been following him. He must have missed them, or something. Another text blipped through as he sat there, and Sebastian opened it hesitantly. 

 

Yet, I admit I am impressed. You've done a number right through Amelia's head, undetected, with a gun you had in your possession for less than an hour or two, and you've also managed to heal a soured ego I damaged months ago and patch that relation for me. Not to mention you found Amelia without me catching wind of it first, and in less than twenty four hours. Who shall I make this first check out to? Now you can afford an actual place to stay. JMx

 

That snapped Sebastian out of it slightly, feeling a glow at the praise. 

 

There's no way you know I don't have a place. -M

 

Apart from that confirmation, yes, I do. You're military, back from recent service. Of course you don't have a place to stay. Before you ask, I'll answer. There's a new sniper in town, wants a job from me, mostly out of the blue, and he doesn't have a gun. You were a gunman of some sort in Her Majesty's militia, and you've been brought home, for whatever reason. It's why you're gunless. They took them all back when you left. Which leads me to believe you were discharged for being naughty, if they left you with none at all. JMx

 

Well. He was right. 

 

I'm not sure how you know all of that, but yes. I prefer cash over a check, however. -M

 

I will pay you in cash if you take it from me in person. I'm intrigued by you, nameless sniper. JMx

 

Sebastian frowned, hesitating for being so brash when it was obvious Moriarty was fishing for a name. 

In that case, make it out to M. -M

 

I'm wounded. You'd find me very fun, I assure you. Still. I will find everything about you, one way or the other, my dear. JMx

 

Sebastian rolled his eyes, crawling under the covers to sleep after kicking his shoes off again. 

 

I have my own secrets I like kept. -M

 

Even so. I'll allow this for now, but don't be surprised when you turn around and I'm there, a foot in your home and a hand in your trousers. JMx

 

Odd metaphor. -M

 

Not for me. I'll arrange a drop off for your check later in the afternoon today. For now I'll forward you assignments via text. JMx

 

Fuck if Sebastian knew what he'd gotten himself into now, but that was to worry about later. 

 

Understood, sir. Thank you. -M

 

Good. I need you to take care of Amelia's latest hit, since she's now out of the picture. Soho. Twenty minutes. I'll give you more details once you're in the neighborhood. JMx

 

Sebastian shut his eyes hard and cursed his ill timing for a moment, before rolling back out of bed. No sleep tonight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim gets impatient.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god this is so short and bleh sorry .n.

The first thing Sebastian did before getting dressed and catching a cab, was to send Charlie a text - the man had insisted upon programming his number into Sebastian's phone, along with an understanding that all he had to do was say the word, and they'd try to make him happy with whatever he needed. 

I'd appreciate it if you could keep things between us, as much as possible, for now. -M 

He was setting up for his next hit, again with his new gun, when the answering text arrived. Apparently someone had transcribed for Charlie, since he couldn't have worked out that much English on his own.

Boss wants to know if you mean to make transactions through you instead of Moriarty, or…? CR

I mean the obvious, that's all. -M

He wasn't able to check his phone until the ride back home again - he had to concentrate hard on lining up his hit through some feisty tree branches, watching the little kid running around and waiting and timing it and waiting even longer, hoping that he'd have a long, clear shot but eventually having to simply time it and cross his fingers, grinning when the obnoxious giggling cut suddenly short, before packing up and getting the fucking hell out of there to stay under the radar - and when he did, Sebastian smiled widely, a fat cat of contentment curling inside him.

Boss says you won't have to worry about that in the slightest. It's already a done deal. CR

Thank you. -M

The next few weeks seemed to pass rather quickly, and Sebastian enjoyed it immensely. With his first two checks for successful hits, he was able to get a small and decent flat, putting the rest into a new bank account, so Moriarty would hopefully keep off his tail for a bit longer. The more time that went by, the more the man seemed to get antsy about the fact that he still didn't know Sebastian's name, still just had an 'M' to go off of. 

He thought he'd caught a few people following him, once or twice, but he lost them quickly and they stayed out of his way. He was cautious when he went home, not wanting a surprise visit in the middle of the night, and for the most part, it simply seemed that Moriarty's men simply were following him to keep tabs on what he was up to when he was out. Possibly to observe him as he shot people, he wasn't sure. It was easy for him to get into the right mindset, to let nothing else distract him, and it was both a blessing and a curse, really, depending on the circumstances. No distractions while shooting, however, were almost always blessings. 

Ideally, he'd have liked their relationship to remain strictly anonymous, but it was only a matter of time. James Moriarty got what he wanted, he came to find. And things had been running too smoothly, of course, to continue in such a way. They were going to crash and burn at some point. They always did for Sebastian.

He'd been working for Moriarty almost a month, had carried out over twenty hits during that time, and was still acting cautiously, aware of his surroundings at all times, especially on the way home. It was laughable, really, that it was on the very beginning leg of his walk home from getting groceries that Moriarty's men grabbed him, but then again, the man wasn't really about convenience for other people, Sebastian had found, and the fact that he was carrying two heavy bags back home was the only reason he didn't react faster to get away. Well, alright. That and that they were sneaky little bastards that had crept up on him without seeing, for as big as they were. 

As it was, Sebastian found himself shoved backwards into an alleyway, his freshly bought food spilling everywhere as he tried to get his arms up, chloroform pressed tightly over his mouth and nose as the two men pinned him against the wall to wait it out. They had to be Moriarty's men, Sebastian told himself as he thrashed, holding his breath in a futile attempt to stave off the inevitable. They had to be, or he was so fucking _dead_ _._  They had too good of a hold on him, and as he watched, one of them brought their fist down into his gut, and he slumped, coughing in pain and letting his breath out, getting a lungful of chemicals the next second when he could pull in air again.

He really panicked then, trying his best to shake them off, even as he felt himself slipping into a blankness. A minute later, he slumped in the men's arms, and he knew no more.


End file.
